The Melancholy of Graystripe the Warrior
by Lightning of the West
Summary: Welcome to the tragic tale of a cat who thought that some small slice of his poor existence deserved a fraction of happiness. This is the story of Graystripe; a tom who loved and lost, and wallowed in his own self pity as the world listened on. *9/9/13 Edit: formerly known as, And the World Listened 19, apart of a competition by Scarheart of DarkClan*


Do you know what it means to despair at the very thought of existing in the world? Can you imagine how it feels to know that your life is so meaningless and empty when the one person you loved most is gone? Could you even begin to wonder how devastatingly demoralizing it is to continue on without the one person that made life itself enjoyable and special? Could you even begin to understand what it's like to know that your only friend in this world is misery and misery alone, to have that overwhelming soul sucking, life depleting, and sinking feeling of complete undying and unrelenting sorrow?

It's the tragic tale of a cat who wanted too much, who thought that some small slice of his poor existence deserved a fraction of happiness. This is the story of Graystripe; a tom who loved and lost, who fought and achieved, and who wallowed in his own self-pity as the world listened on.

He walked through the forest, letting the leaves and branches from the thorn bushes dig into his face. It didn't matter much, he paid no attention to the sharp thorns; after all he was numb. He felt the ground beneath him lower every time he took a step, every time his heart cried out, the wailing scream coming from inside his swollen chest. The clouds hovered over him, as if a reminder of the desolate life he would forever lead, the one without love, passion, or happiness.

He looked back to a time when happiness enveloped him every day, and although it was more dangerous a situation than he could have ever imagined, at least those were the happiest days of his life. The ones he cherished above all. But looking up into those clouds, he knew as much as he fought it, the sunshine would never again warm his cold depleted soul.

He walked past the world, seemingly a shadow in itself, looking at everything in his view, yet truly seeing nothing. It seemed these days he only saw one thing for it was constant in his mind, haunting him in the most pleasurable yet excruciatingly painful way. Touching the damp nature around him, he tried to block out the memories he kept locked away inside of his heart. To a time where he thought he could truly feel the beat of his heart, as opposed to now where a gaping hole inside himself lay still within his hollow chest for quite some time now, the beat dying out long ago. Someone special carried it away with them, just as he left it to her.

_**And the world listened as she died, as his heart cracked, as their hopes ended.**_

That day would forever be seared into the very depths of his mind, leaving behind a permanent recording of the painful reminder of why he was so alone now, the very reason why he was nothing less than a walking lifeless corpse. How was he supposed to know that that day, a day like no other, would in fact be the last time he would ever see her alive again? How was he to know that that day would not only mark the beginning of the end to his own life, but also the start of his children?

_**And the world listened as his weary soul silently weeped his chaotic mind to sleep.**_

The pain! Oh, the pain of knowing firsthand what it's like to watch someone you truly love die, the searing anguish of complete self-loathing and rage, in knowing that _you_played a direct part in their demise. The strangest thing though, it wasn't the first time he'd played a pivotal part in the death of another cat. No, that would be too easy, it would be breaking the law of the land personally designed to forever cause him nothing but turmoil and utter despair.

_**And the world listened as with a shrieking cry of fear Whiteclaw trailed too close to the gorge's edge, and fell over to his death.**_

He remembered that day vividly. How could he not, for funnily enough, it was the first of his many offenses against RiverClan. Now that he actually thought about it, how many lives had their Clan lost because of his utter lack of sensibility? Even now, Whiteclaw's dying screams haunted his nightmares. That look, that last look of complete and honest panic-stricken, fear laced look of utter horror reflecting clearly across Whiteclaw's face played throughout his mind on a daily basis, reminding him bitterly of just one of the many tragedies he'd been destined to cause.

He let the memories of his past failures and crimes overrun him in a swirling mass of clashing and conflicting emotions of bitter resentment and hollowness. His tail trailed heavily behind him in the dirt, an added weight of physical guilt piled on to the already increasing stack of his many life's disappointments. Stormfur and Feathertail, what they must secretly think of him? He didn't blame them for seeking refuge among their mother's birth Clan. Anything was better than being within a bare fox length of the lowly piece of mouse bile scum that led them to being branded half-Clan kits, and growing up without the true feel of their own mother's loving embrace.

_**And the world listened as the burning glares from the RiverClan cats scorched his pelt to falling piles of ash.**_

Even though all the Clans had worked together to bring about the defeat of BloodClan, there would never be no erasing the boiling tensions of rage that came from the RiverClan side at gatherings. He would never fully be forgiven by them, and he expected nothing less. The couple of moons he'd spent there attempting to be a part of Stormfur and Feathertail's lives told him as much. He'd caused their Clan too many deaths to ever be fully forgiven. Cats from his own Clan had caused them too many deaths to ever fully be forgiven. And of course when speaking of the refusal of forgiveness of one Clan, he couldn't forget about his own.

_**Traitor.**_

The word left a sinking feeling of depression in the pit of his stomach, the very thought of it sending a burning flare of hurt and anger coursing through his body. That was what they called him. He was only too aware of it. Firestar could continue to think on he was successfully deluding him into believing that that wasn't what the Clan was still whispering about behind his back, but Graystripe knew better. He was a traitor, a traitor to the warrior code, his best friend, but most importantly his Clan.

He'd snuck behind their backs, misused their trust, and then abandoned them to be with his kits. Graystripe would never say that he regretted leaving ThunderClan to be with Stormfur and Feathertail. At the time he was still in a sense of mourning, and they both reminded him too much of Silverstream to have them taken away where a river would always divide them. He could never say he wouldn't do it again, but looking at it from ThunderClan's perspective he had betrayed them in more ways than one.

Self-consciously, Graystripe didn't truly feel he deserved to be able to call ThunderClan his home; and if certain cats had their say in the matter they'd agree with him. Probably the only thing that had in the end lessened the tension was when Whitestorm, in his death elected him deputy.

_**And the world listened as with his last breathe, Whitestorm named him the new deputy of ThunderClan.**_

He still couldn't believe it, even now. Him, Graystripe, deputy? He knew that he didn't deserve the title; he'd done so little, caused too much trouble to ever deserve the honor of being named deputy, and possible future leader of ThunderClan. He never asked Whitestorm to do what he did; he never wanted to have the large responsibility of overseeing the Clan along with Firestar. He wasn't worthy of such a prestigious honor that cats like his former mentor, Lionheart had once held. In a way he felt that he was disrespecting their very legacies by even allowing himself to be addressed by the title of deputy.

Graystripe spat angrily, as he made his way for his headed destination. He was worthless. Not even fit to be called a warrior of ThunderClan. This was his punishment was allowing himself to first even believe he'd deserved to find love. Love? What had it gotten him? A dead mate, two kits he would never be able to see outside gatherings or battles, and a Clan who was just slowly warming themselves back up to his traitorous hide!

The forest finally receded from around him, and with a small lurch from his heart, Graystripe stepped forward, as his paws grazed the flat warm rough surface of Sunningrocks. His heart beat in heavy slow deep rhythms, as he trailed closer to the area where it all ended for him. He sat down on his haunches, staring blankly at the pale spot on ground where the declination of his world had begun. It was just sitting there for endless amounts of time, that finally after allowing all the right gears to finally click into place, his expressionless mask shattered, and the realization of it all hit him square dead in the middle of the chest, as grief washed over him in a roaring waterfall of sorrow.

He collapsed right in the front of the spot, burying his face into the ground, gritting his teeth tightly together to stop from yowling his pains of anguish out for the world to hear. A pounding pulse of pressure beat down relentlessly against his body, as waves of agony wafted off of his pelt.

"I'm sorry," a muffled cry slipped from his mouth. "I'm sorry, Silverstream. For everything, for every waking second of the overbearing pain of turmoil and anguish you had to endure because of me. I'm sorry for ruining your life. I'm sorry that our kits will never grow up knowing how wonderful you were. I'm sorry that you'll never get the chance to see how brave and courageous our kits grow up to be. I'm sorry that I ruined your life the very first moment you met me when you fished me out of that frozen river. I'm sorry for everything. I-"

Graystripe's voice suddenly cracked from all the over pouring emotion trying to force its way out of his throat, and he just simply lay there, reveling in his own self-loathing. He let the pain engulf him, allow the grief to overshadow his thoughts of the past if only for a minute. He was tired. He was so just so tired of trying to hold in all the conflicting emotions and memories that plagued him every single day. If it was just for this one small moment of peace away from the camp to allow this release of pent-up frustration, he was thankful. He was-

"Graystripe, are you okay?"

The sudden sound of another voice tore him from his wallowing. Graystripe sat up to see the bright fiery pelt of Firestar standing a few fox-lengths away, a worried expression plastered across his face. Graystripe blinked a couple of times, seeming almost surprised to see his friend all the way out here away from the Clan.

"Are you okay?" Firestar repeated, peering closely into Graystripe's sullen and shrunken face. "You've been gone away from the camp from a long time now. I wanted to make sure that nothing bad had happen to you."

For a split second Graystripe was almost tempted to tell Firestar the truth. He had been there when Silverstream had died, and although he hadn't supported them being together he went along with it because of their friendship. Graystripe found that if there was one cat that he could reveal his inner feelings to, it was Firestar. But when he opened his mouth to answer, all that came out was.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm fine."

_**And the world listened as his heart shattered with this final lie, for he would never be okay. A day didn't go by when he didn't think about her.**_

Firestar stared unbelievingly into Graystripe's face, knowing full well that the gray tom had just lied to him. Graystripe, however, merely titled his head to the side and smiled.

"Come on, why don't we go catch something on our way back to camp?" he advised to Firestar, never breaking the smile for a moment.

Still staring worriedly at his best friend, Firestar nodded his head in agreement, and together the two friends headed back on their way to ThunderClan camp, an unspoken mutual agreement between the both of them to never again mention this moment. He and Graystripe chatted back all the way home; with the gray furred tom once again clogging his bottled emotions back up, never to be seen among his fellow Clan cats.

_**And the world listened, as with a final silent look of pain at the spot where she died, he walked away, leaving behind a puddle of fallen unshed tears and a lifelong dream of love and harmony that would never be**_.


End file.
